Nicky and Stella meet in Max
by Soma Stanford
Summary: Stella (Ruby Rose) is betrayed by Piper, and is sent to maximum security prison, where she meets her new cellmate, Nicky. Nicky, looking worn but holding on, is thankful for the human interaction. Perhaps a little too thankful. Will Stella fall for Nicky's charm?
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

 _ **Nicky and Stella meet up in Maximum Security Prison**_

Piper fucked me over. Okay, I may have fucked her over too, stealing her money from the panty-sniffing-business. But seriously. It was a panty-sniffing business.

She conspired against me, planting all of that shit by my bed, and now I'm on my way to max for possession of screwdrivers and weed. It's not even a noble crime.

The guards cuff my hands behind my back, and as I walk away, I look back to her. She flashes her tattoo to me, 'Trust No Bitch' written in conservative white ink on her forearm. The irony of the words that I personally embedded into her skin hits me. I'm on my way to maximum-security prison, who knows for how long, and there is not even a flinch to her facial expression. Did she ever really care?

"Come on inmate, stop daydreaming. Time to go."

"I'm coming," I say to the female security guard, with a low tone to my voice. I am taken out of Litchfield and led into a van. When we arrive at the maximum-security prison, I am led down a dark hallway.

"You don't leave the cell except to eat or go to the bathroom, and there's an optional hour-long outdoor session each day in a caged area at noon. Any questions?"

I shake my head 'no' as we arrive at my 8 x 12 cell. My new home.

"Good. Well, here we are. You'll have a cellmate. I believe you know each other already."

The guard opens the door and removes my cuffs. As she closes the door behind me, the clink of the metal shutting pierces the air.

I give my new cellmate a nod, and she looks at me in surprise. She's lost weight since I last saw her a few weeks ago. Dark circles hang beneath her eyes. Still, Nicky has maintained something, and I can tell that she has a certain strength about her.

"Well. Look who it is," she says.

"Nicky," I say. "Looks like we'll be getting to know each other."

"Shit. Stella. What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be going home soon."

"Yeah. Today, actually. This was not exactly where I was expecting to end up."

I take a big breath. "Bitches can't be trusted," I say, looking downward and shaking my head.

"Ain't that the truth. Well, come in, make yourself at home. Bed's over there, as you can see. There's not too much else to say. It bites the big one here."

I walk over to the single bed and sit on its edge, my movements slow and minimal.

"How bad is it?" I ask, having never before experienced a maximum-security prison.

"Well, put it this way. It's fucking awful. But … it just got better."

When I look up to Nicky I can see it in her eyes. I've seen those eyes before; I've given those eyes before. I also know that Nicky has a certain reputation at Lytchfield. She's kept a tally of all of the women she's fucked. I'm mad at her for hitting on me right now. My life feels like it's over, and there's Nicky, with her fuck-me eyes.

"Did you know," continued Nicky, "that I haven't had a conversation with anyone in three weeks? I'm surprised I still know how to talk."

She stands and comes over to my bed. "Mind if I have a sit?"

"Go for it," I say, trying to play it cool. That's what my life has become. One big act of trying to play it cool all the time, even if on the inside I am twisting and turning. But is trying to play it cool not in itself, an act of actually being cool? That's what I tell myself.

"She fucked you over. Didn't she?"

"Who?" I say.

"Don't give me that. Piper," she says. "The unassuming blond bitch."

"What? How did you know?" I am taken aback at her knowledge. Was there some sort of secret communication between Lytchfield and this place?

"I've been backstabbed enough to be able to see that shit coming. Little Miss Vanilla Perfect grew a set of prison balls. She's been trying to establish herself like nobody's business. You should have seen her at first – all mousy and innocent. Taking you down was the best thing that could have happened to her as far as her prison cred is concerned."

"That bitch," I say, more to myself than to Nicky. I still don't believe she could have done this to me. How could I have been so stupid?

Nicky is apparently reading my mind. "Don't beat yourself up over it, kiddo. It happens to the best of us. Anyway, maybe one good thing could come of this shit show we've gotten ourselves into."

I look at her again. She's still got those fuck-me-eyes. I offer a slight smile.

She leans in and whispers in my ear, "When the lights go out, I can be quiet. Really quiet. The question is – can you?"

She places her hand on my arm and moves it slowly up to my shoulder. Her face stays close to mine and I can feel her warm breath on my ear.

Her words and her touch send shivers down my spine. I am torn. I want to be mad at her for trying to pull this shit with me. And I don't trust her. I don't trust anyone right now. Still. It feels nice to be close with someone. And really…what have I got to lose?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Enjoy!

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Nicky still sits close to me on my bed. Very close. So close that I need to come to a stand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out or anything." She has an apologetic tone to her voice when she speaks. "I'm not exactly the best at hiding my feelings."

"No worries," I say, still with mixed emotions. "I just need some time right now. It's that fucking Piper. Betrayal hits hard. It's the worst of the deadly sins."

"Actually, betrayal isn't even one of the deadly sins. Trust me. I'm an expert in the sinning department. For better or for worse." Nicky raises her eyebrows and sighs. "Which ones are you guilty of?"

"What – the deadly sins?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Hmmmm...," I try to remember the different sins. Envy. Right.

"I'm definitely guilty of envy." I say. "I'm envious of the women in the normal prison. When I was little, and pictured my life, I never thought I'd be envious of women in a less brutal prison environment. But really, I'm envious of everyone on the outside of prison altogether. I just want to be free."

"Makes sense," says Nicky. "In here, we just have to make our own freedom. Like freedom of the mind. That's where the revolution is. In the head. Ever read Man's Search for Meaning?"

I shake my head. "No, I haven't." I sit back down, but instead on her bed, opposite her, relaxing into conversation again.

"It's a book by a guy in a concentration camp. Frankl, I think that was his name. Anyway, it's all about how you can find meaning in suffering. The difference is - we deserve to be here. The prisoners in Auschwitz didn't. But you know what? We can still use this Frankl's guy's ideas."

I contemplate Nicky's words. How the hell am I supposed to find meaning in prison? I think of all the things I could be doing on the outside. I don't belong here. Anger is flowing through my blood.

"Wrath," I say. "I am guilty of wrath. I'm so fucking mad at life. And at myself."

"Nice one," says Nicky. It feels strange yet good to receive a compliment about thinking up a good sin.

"What about you? What sins are you guilty of?"

Nicky looks to the cement ceiling and lets out a laugh that echoes in our cell.

"Well, let's see. I'm an addict, so greed, gluttony and sloth are all up there. In that order. But it's strange. At some point you lose control. I take the blame for the shit I've done, I do. But my brain thirsted for heroine. I would have done anything for a hit. I had too much pride to try and get help. Hey, there goes another sin. Pride."

"I guess if there's one good thing that comes out of prison," I say, "it takes away your pride."

"There's one other good thing about prison," says Nicky. "And that's the friends and lovers you make here. Actually, that's where the final sin comes in."

I know she's referring to lust. She doesn't have to say it because her eyes say it all. Those damn fuck-me-eyes again. I get sucked into her gaze and feel my eyes are magnetically locked to hers. I can't look away. If we were not locked in a cell together, I would break the glare by saying I had to go get a drink or floss or wash my hair. But I can't make any of those excuses. With all of these thoughts running through my brain, I realize I am fiddling with my hands then sit on them when she notices.

What am I doing? I'm supposed to be tough. Piper fucked me over and I'm letting it weaken me. No. It will make me stronger. I stand up and go back to sit on the same bed as Nicky again. She gives me a sexy glance.

"Listen, sinner extraordinaire," I say. "I'm glad you're my cellmate." I brush her wild hair away from her face and then pull on it just a bit. "Maybe we can even make a few sins of our own here."

I bring by lips close to hers but don't touch them. I just hover there. My senses are heightened. I know we could kiss, it would be easy. It would feel amazing. But sometimes things are better when they don't happen. I've always enjoyed the moment just before the kiss even more than the kiss itself. I decide to end the moment.

"Now get out of my bed, Nichols. We'll have plenty of time to … get to know each other."

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	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, I wake up at six a.m. The prison lights come on all at once and the brightness of the light hurts my eyes. The guard taps on the bars of our cell.

"Carlin. Nichols. Up and at it. It's time to get to work." I notice she has a wooden baton attached at her hip, and decide to get 'up and at it' right away. 

"Carlin," the guard continued. "I'm assigning you to bathroom duty with Nichols. She'll show you the ropes. Not that it's exactly rocket science."

Nicky and I stand in the bathroom with a pail, some soap and scrub brush. Our first job is to scrub the floor.

"Well," I say. "This is exactly what I'd love to be doing at the crack of dawn. Don't you agree?"

"Couldn't think of a finer thing." Nicky looks at me and adds, "Let's get to work, sweet-tits."

"Did you seriously just call me sweet-tits?" I ask, not letting her get away with a comment like that so easily.

"Of course I called you sweet-tits, sweet-tits. In fact, I'm going to call you that from now on."

"And what if I object?"

"What? Are you saying your tits ain't sweet or something?"

I guess she has me there.

"Fine," I say. Call me sweet-tits then. Just not in public. Deal?"

"Deal."

Nicky starts at one end of the bathroom and I at the other. The floor is disgusting. Mildew, hairs, garbage. I do my best to get it clean. I look over to Nicky, scrubbing away. In prison, we go by our last name. She is Nichols. But for a moment, I contemplate her as a Nicky. An image arises in my mind of her as a young girl, before she tried heroine, before jail. Her mother was a wealthy and kind woman, so I've heard. And before she was Nichols, she was Nicky.

"What were you like?" I ask. "When you were little?"

"What do you mean what was I like?" She seems taken aback by the question.

"What were you like? When you were a little girl?"

"I don't know," she said. "I guess I did all that stupid shit that little girls do. Played piano. Used to play that board game Girl Talk. Make prank calls for fun. How about you?"

"I was more of a tomboy, I guess. Always liked sports, being outside, getting into trouble."

"So you always had a troublesome streak in you, then?"

"Yeah," I say. "I've always been a bit of a bad-ass, which didn't work out very well for me. I am scrubbing the bathroom floor of a prison, after all."

"I wasn't much of a bas-ass until I tried drugs for the first time," she says. "It started with weed, then went on to oxys, then heroine. After that, it was over. I would do anything for drugs. Anything. I guess my 'bad-assedness,' if that's even a word, was a necessary way to help me get high."

She continues to scrub the floor, not making eye contact, scrubbing harder and harder while telling me the story, as if scrubbing away her pain.

"Sounds tough," I say.

"Yeah wasn't exactly a walk in the park."

She moves from her scrubbing position to be seated, cross-legged. I follow suit. I see vulnerability in her face. I think her upper lip might be quivering, though it's hard to tell. I want to tell her that it's okay, that things will get better. But that's not something that I can promise.

"Let me ask you a question, sweet-tits."

"Yes, Nichols?"

"Last night, we almost kissed. There. I said it."

"Wow, very observant of you."

"Haha. Very funny. What I mean is, how did you like it? The … almost kissing."

"I liked it very much, thank you." I enjoy holding back and being sarcastic with her.

"Well, I was thinking, the floor is looking pretty dirty over there where you are. And, I though you might need a little help with your scrubbing, you know, given that you're new to the job and all."

I tell Nicky that I'd be pleased to have her help with the cleaning. She walks across the room and and sits beside me.

"See, you were moving the scrub brush in the entirely wrong motion. You were going back and forth. Sure, you had some good elbow grease. But what you really need to do is use a more circular motion. Like this."

She puts her hand on top of mine, and just the mere touch of it makes me close my eyes with pleasure.

"I see," I say. "You're very good at this … circular motion."

We continue to move the brush around on the floor together and she shoulders in closer and closer. We are cleaning nothing, but that doesn't matter.

"Hey, I have an idea," I say. "Maybe we could almost kiss again."

Her head moves toward mine, and again, our lips hover near each other. After staying like this for several seconds I can't take it anymore. I put my hand to her cheek, and bring her lips toward mine. When we kiss, I'm surprised at how sensual it feels. Nicky seems like the rough type. Her kiss seemed soft in contrast to her brash personality. It is amazing, and I want more, but we hear footsteps coming down the hall.

We immediately give each other a fearful look and Nicky scurries off to her corner of the bathroom. We continue scrubbing, as if nothing even happened.

"Inmates," said the guard. "How's the work going?"

"Fine," we say in unison, trying our best not to look guilty. We pause for a brief moment to look at her.

She looks at us suspiciously for a few moments, then tells us to keep up the good work before moving on.

When she leaves, Nicky and I exchange a knowing glance. She smiles and says, "Nicely done, sweet-tits."

I say, "thanks Nichols," though I really want to call her Nicky.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Stella Meets Nicky in Max**_

 _ **Chapter 4**_

(This time – from Nicky's perspective)

I have to say, things have been way better now since Carlin moved in. I mean, it's only been two days and all, but I'm enjoying having her around. She's funny, smart and hot as balls. How the fuck did she end up here anyway? I guess I have lots of time to figure that one out.

It's the middle of the afternoon, and she's lying in her bed. I watch her sleep. She is on her side, and facing me. I watch her thin frame move up and down with each breath, then get fixated in the dip of her waist. She's practically swimming in that orange jumpsuit, but I can make out the slightest of a curve.

I have to admit. I have an incredibly huge sex drive. But fuck – I bet even Sister Ingalls would get turned on by Carlin. She's masculine, yet feminine. I start to wonder what it would be like to get in her pants. To make her scream. Who would be dominant? Me, or her? Usually I take on the dom role, but I can't exactly imagine her being submissive, either.

My gaze moves from her waist up to her chest, then to her face, and I realize her eyes are open. Shit.

"Uh, hi," I say.

"Hello," she says, calmly. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

And that Australian accent. So fucking hot. I'm not often at a loss for words. But right now, I totally am.

"I was just … yeah fuck it. Not going to lie. I was, how shall I say this? Enjoying the view."

"Well, I'm glad I'm here to make things scenic for you."

"Yeah, uh, thanks."

I have to get myself together. No one makes me stammer like this. No one makes me uncomfortable like this. I sound like a child.

"Well, I guess I'll just keep on staring at you, if you don't mind." Okay. I'm starting to get my game back.

"Go ahead. It's time for my workout anyway. You can either stare, or your can join me."

"Oh yeah? Sure, I'll join. I have to say I'm not much of a worker-outer." I'm not a worker-outer at all. "But hey, no time like the present to get in shape."

"Alright," she says, I reckon we get started then. "Pushups."

She drops to the ground and begins doing push-ups from her toes. She pumps out five easily. Her form is perfect. She pauses at the top of her fifth one – "Come on. Let's go," she says, continuing on with the exercise.

I work my way down to the floor beside her. There isn't much room in our cell so there's only a few inches between us. Carlin does four push-ups in the time it takes me to do one.

"Holy shit Rocky," I say. "How do you do this?"

"How do I not do this, is the question. If I don't work out, I feel knotted and anxious and weird. This is my meditation. My church. It also happens to give me some pretty sweet biceps in the process."

She looks at me and offers a smile. I think it's the first real smile she's given me since she became my new cellmate. After ten pushups, I collapse dramatically then sit on the floor. She finishes out her set of fifty and then moves to a seated position on the floor as well. Beads of sweat form on her forehead. Desire for her overcomes me. I unconsciously lick my lips, then realize I'm doing so, and stop immediately.

But there's something about Carlin. She's not like the other girls. With everyone else, I just want to get my rocks off. Sex is another form of a high. It makes you feel good, but then you just go back to feeling lonely again when it's all over.

But this is me we're talking about. I don't 'like' people. I don't get crushes. I am tough and I fuck and I am in this for me. I just can't get enough of Carlin, though. I also don't want to get hurt. That's happened before. Maybe I should just try to keep this totally sexual.

"You're pretty hot when you're sweaty, you know," I say, raising my eyebrows. She bites her lower lip. Then she does something totally surprising. She moves to all fours and comes in close to my face. It's still afternoon and a guard could come by at any minute. She's a risk-taker and I like it.

"Nichols," she whispers to me, "You're fucking hot. And you know it. And you're an animal. She runs her cheek along my cheek, then grabs a hold of the bottom of my shirt, tightly, pulling it down so the top part digs into my shoulders. "And we _will_ fuck. In due time. But first, I have to trust you. And my trust is something you'll have to earn."

I'm taken aback and totally turned on by her forwardness. No one ever talks to me like this. I'm Nichols, after all. Usually I'm the seducer, the dom. I'd be okay with taking a back seat for once. In fact, I can't fucking wait. But first I have to prove to her that she can trust this bitch.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

(Stella)

 _Positive Thinking_

It's been two weeks since I've been taken to max. That means it's also been two weeks since I've been rooming with Nicky. And it's been an emotional roller coaster ride ever since. Now it is December 25 at five a.m. I sit up in my bed within my cell in the dark and take a deep breath. So this is Christmas.

When I was first brought down to max, first betrayed by Piper, I was angry. Furious, even. I couldn't believe what she did to me. Then, when I found out Nicky Nichols would be my cellmate, things started to look up. Things got a bit better. But today, all I feel is sadness. It's Christmas. The time of good cheer. It's supposed to be a happy time. A merry time. A gay time. It's certainly not happy. And it's not merry either. Gay? Perhaps.

I think that's why Christmas has always been a hard time for me. When I came out to my parents as a lesbian, they didn't support me. Christmas was not a time of year I looked forward to. I'd sit through our family dinners, failing to connect with my family on every possible level. My dad would always ask me why I couldn't just be normal, like everybody else, my mother chewing her turkey silently and staring down at her colourful plate of food. I took joy in playing with my nephew, escaping with him any chance I could. But all in all, Christmas used to be rough.

As bad as Christmas used to be for me, spending it in prison is definitely worse. My parents haven't visited or called me yet since I've been arrested. They definitely wouldn't know that I'd be in max. They weren't even aware of my release date.

I feel myself sinking into a dark place. A place that feels almost more comfortable than happiness because I've spent more time there. A depressive state. My brain goes there more easily, especially on occasions where we are meant to be happy. Like Christmas. But I don't want to stay there, in that mindset, so I choose not to. I need to get my brain on a different track.

I start to think positive thoughts. Today, we'll be eating food that's a bit better than normal. Turkey, turnips and stuffing on the menu. My mouth waters at the thought of this. I've been eating mush for so long now, I forget what a good meal tastes like. Wait…I was supposed to be having positive thoughts. Shit. Okay. Positive thought #1 is that the food might be good today. Check. Positive thought #2. Hmmm…health! That's it. I have my health. I have legs and arms and everything works. And with my prison workouts, I'll continue getting in the best shape of my life. Another positive thought. That's three.

I look over to Nicky and watch her sleep. She's snoring really slightly. It's kind of cute, actually. And we've been getting along really well, too. The first couple of days were a bit hot and heated. She was horny; I was vulnerable, but I told her I needed to trust her before fucking her. And she's respected that. Sure we're still flirting. But her fuck-me-eyes have changed to be trust-me-eyes. And this is what I wanted. Hey, that's Positive Thought #4.

I watch her stir slightly before she turns and notices I'm awake.

"Hey, you up?" she asks, in her soft and cracking morning voice.

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep," I say.

"No? That's shitty. Merry Christmas, though," she says, before rolling over and going back to bed.

Later that day, we sit next to each other in the cafeteria with our Christmas dinners on trays in front of us. The turnips and stuffing are both pre-made slop, and the turkey is processed meat. I don't care, though, it's still better than the usual. The prison staff even attempted to put up decorations. A paper cut-out of Santa, fraying at the edges, is taped to the wall, along with his reindeer. Frosty the snowman is beside him, in a similar tattered condition. There is no tree; there are no lights. These items would be too dangerous for a place like max.

"Well," Nicky says. "Isn't this festive?"

"Definitely puts me in the Christmas spirit," I say sarcastically.

"Yeah right. Me too. I think everyone in here feels like a Christmas Scrooge today."

I stop to wonder how many more Christmases I'll have to spend in here. I didn't even steal that contraband. But even if I did, what kind of time would I be looking at? They haven't told me anything yet. I'll know more next week at my meeting.

To try and stay on the train of positivity, the one I was trying to ride this morning. I decide to change the subject.

"Nicky. When was your last relationship?"

"Well that was out of the blue."

"Nothing is really out of the blue," I say. "When was it?"

"I guess that woulda been, let me see, yep, Morello."

"That's right. The Italian chick. I'd heard about you two. So, it was a relationship, then?"

"It was," says Nicky. "Well, it was for me, anyway. I don't know what she thought it was."

Then she is silent for a moment, looking down to her plate, playing with her potatoes.

"Nichols," I say, trying to catch her gaze. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright. It's just that...," she looks up to meet my gaze again. "It's just that I miss her. I know she didn't feel the same for me. But I loved that bitch. And it's Christmas and…." She sighs, then starts eating her food again. "I guess I miss her a little," she says between bites.

Wow. I am floored at her honesty. I haven't seen her so vulnerable before. I had no idea she felt this way about Morello. I'd assumed it was all about the sex for Nicky.

When people are honest with me, when they open up to me, I am honoured. It is a sign that they trust me enough to tell me certain things. I typically trust no bitch, but when someone trusts me, this is when I begin to trust them.

She asks me if I've ever been in love and I tell her once, but it seems like ages ago. I tell her that it didn't end well and then change the subject. We can have that conversation another day.

"Well, I guess we've both had our share of love gone wrong," Nicky says. "But that doesn't mean we can't get over it, move on, find other people to love and lust over. Am I right?"

"You are right," I tell her, moving my foot to touch hers under the table. "In fact," I add, "I'm about ready to move on. At least when it comes to the lust part."

Nicky looks at me with question in her eyes, raising her eyebrows. "Does this mean…."

"Does it mean you've earned my trust?" I look at her straight in the eye, without even blinking. "Not necessarily. That takes a lot. But it does mean I'd like to invite you on a date tonight. My side of the room on New Year's Eve. Eleven p.m."

She responds with an _I'll be there_ , and we spend the rest of the meal in silence, but smiling. I've just come up with Positive Thought #5.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

(From Nicky's perspective)

Tonight is the night. I have been waiting for almost a week now and it's finally time. Time for my New Year's Even date. Stella invited me to her bed tonight. Okay. I have to take a minute and realize how messed up it is that I am going on a date with a woman in my own prison cell. I am making the journey over to her bed and we are having a date.

We wait silently until the guards turn the lights out.

"Alright, time to go to bed inmates."

There is a 'thunk' as it changes from light to dark. The 'thunk' signifies something deeper tonight, though.

"Well," whispers Stella, "Are you ready for the date?"

I slowly stand up, my bare feet cold against the cement floor. I walk across our small cell and sit on her bed, my feet still on the floor. Stella sits up.

She removes a flashlight from the corner of her bed and then places it under the sheet, creating a soft hue of light around us.

"I have something for you," she says, digging again to the side of the bed. A present? Holy shit. I don't remember the last time someone gave me a present, which makes me sad for a second so I try not to think about it. "Really?" I say, aware that my voice has taken a girlish turn. "You shouldn't have," I add, lowering my tone.

She takes out a folded piece of paper and hands it to me. I open it and look at the contents. It's a drawing. A drawing of me, sleeping. I state at the piece of paper. I'm laying on my side, my hair covering half of my face. And she's captured something in me. Something I don't even see in myself. There's a gentleness and a sexiness to my face. It's so detailed. From the shadows of my collarbone to the lines in my lips. Detailed.

"It's beautiful," I say, then questioning my choice of my words. Maybe that sounds egotistical. "I mean, it's good. I'm not beautiful or anything, but your art. It's the thing that's beautiful."

"You are welcome," she said, "But you're wrong about one thing. You are very beautiful. You made my work easy."

I smile and look down to her drawing. It really is beautiful. I guess maybe I'm beautiful, too. 

"Did you draw me when I was sleeping?" I ask.

"Of course," she said. "I always wake up early in the morning. It gives me something to do."

"Don't you think that's kinda creepy?" I can't help but smile.

"Yeah, I'm a little creepy, I suppose," she says, looking so hot. How can anyone be hot as they tell you they are creepy? Only Stella.

"Well, I'm a little creepy too then," I admit. "I've watched you sleeping a few times myself."

"Really?" she says. "That's hot. Hopefully I wasn't drooling or anything. I tend to do that."

I laugh at her frankness. "Not that I noticed," I say.

"Thanks for the present, Carlin." I fold up the paper and set it on the stand beside her bed.

"No worries. And, welcome to our date. To my bed."

"It's nice to be here," I say.

Okay. Now is that part where I begin to wonder what's going to happen on this date. We can't very well play Scrabble or drink red wine. In fact, I don't even remember the last time I was on a date. The closest thing I've had to dates I guess would have been fucking Lorna in the chapel.

"I thought we could do something fun." Stella has a mischievous tone to her voice. She once again reaches to the side of her bed and pulls out a deck of cards. "I thought we could play a game of poker. Strip poker."

"I'm down for that," I say. "But you'd better be careful. I'm pretty good at this game."

"Or, are you bluffing?" Stella asks.

Then we just stare at each other. Through each other. Each of us trying to bluff in one way or another. I was trying to bluff confidence. Fake it 'til you make it, as they say. What is Stella bluffing?

Without losing eye contact, Stella dealt the cards. I look at my hand. I've got four clubs - a 7, 8, 9 and 10. The other card is a two of hearts. I haven't played poker in a long time but I'm pretty sure it's a good hand.

"Okay," says Stella. "The first thing we have to do is pick a clothing item to wager. How about…our tops?"

"Deal. Now what's in your hand?"

She displays her hand to me. It's shit.

"I guess my top has to go." She takes off her orange top and is left wearing only her bra. I look at her breasts through her bra, thankful for the soft flashlight illuminating her hard nipples through the white cotton.

She deals another hand. I win. And another. I win again. The game continues until Stella remains sitting in front of me, the only thing she still has on is her underwear.

I take all of her in. Her masculine frame with feminine features. Her breasts. Her abs. But mostly, her face. The way she looks at me.

"Don't you think this is a little unfair?" she asks. She raises her eyebrows and her face takes on a puppy dog quality.

"Hey, rules are rules," I say. "But now that I've kicked your ass in poker, I think I can compromise. Just a little bit, anyway."

I reach down to the bottom of my shirt and pull it up over my head, then roll it into a ball and toss it over to Stella. "For you," I say. I notice her eyes drift down to my breasts, lingering there for a bit before she looks up to my face again. She bites her lower lip.

I see how she enjoys it, so I reach around my back and unclip my bra, flinging it at her like a slingshot. It hits her in the chest, then falls to her lap. She picks up my bra, cups it in both of her hands, and smells it. Then, she places it around the back of my neck, but with a strap in each of her hands. She pulls me toward her, then leans in and kisses my lips. It is soft at first, then intense. I can feel her tongue inside my mouth, and she pulls harder on the bra. I can feel the straps pinching the sides of my neck and I love it. I love everything about it.

Stella releases the bra, letting it fall behind me. Then she guides me to be sitting with my back against the wall. I can feel its coolness, but it turns me on even more. I take a minute to reflect on this situation. It's not the fact that we are in a prison that I find so bizarre. It's not the fact that it's Stella who I'm with, Piper's ex fling, or whatever they were. The strange part is, Stella is dominating our sex. It's not something I'm used to. Usually, I'm the dykey-diva-dom-dude, whatever you want to call it. This time is different, though. She's the dominant one. And surprisingly, I like it.

When Stella has me leaning against the wall, she straddles me, and gives me a serious look before placing her tongue gently on my left breast. I lean my head back with pleasure and almost moan. I think that she senses this, so she lifts a hand up to my mouth covering any potential sounds from emerging. Nothing more than a muffled whisper comes out. I'm good at holding in my sounds. I've had lots of practice.

She tongues her way around one nipple, then the other, squeezing my breasts while she does this. She stops for a moment, coming up to my ear and whispering, "You tits are so fucking hot."

She grabs my long hair and pulls it away from my face. "How do you like your sex, Nicky?" she asks.

My body is vibrating, and so is my mind. I want to tell her I like my sex any way she wants to give it to me. She can do what ever the fuck she wants. These are the words I want to say. But I can't say anything. Because she called me Nicky.

Nicky. No one in prison calls me Nicky. It's Nichols. We go by our last names here. She broke the code. And that means something. But now is no time to get all cutesy.

"Fuck me like you mean it," I say.

"As you wish," she says. But before anything else, she reaches down to the side of the bed once again. She pulls out a watch, checks the time, then sets it down again.

"By the way," she adds, "happy new year."


End file.
